The Mug
by Ranger of the Forest
Summary: How could such a little thing mean so much to her? And was it possible that it meant something to him too? A series of flashbacks detailing Skye's first and subsequent trips to Boston.
1. Introduction

AN: So this is my first fanfic. I'm not entirely satisfied with how it turned out, but I hope my writing will improve as the story progresses. Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated.

The sound of the Penderwick's car leaving the driveway echoed in the second-floor bedroom long after the merry party had departed. Skye sat up in her bed, a crick in the back of her neck, and a throbbing in her head. She opened her mouth to let out a groan, but instead emitted a strangled, hacking cough.

"Are you alright staying here by yourself, Skye?" asked Iantha, concern in her eyes.

"I'm fine," grumbled Skye. "I wish you would all stop making such a fuss."

"I'm your mother. It's my job to worry." Iantha smiled, smoothing down the rumpled covers on Skye's normally neat bed. "Just call us if you need anything. Piano recital or no piano recital, we all care about you."

"Thanks, but I'll still be hacking up gunk whether you care about me or not. Besides, it's not like anyone actually wants to go to Batty's stupid recital anyway."

"That's not true. Everyone in this family but you has been looking forward to this for weeks. Even Ben, and he barely even knows what a piano is. I know you aren't feeling well right now, but could you at least try to be nice about it for Batty's sake and stop wallowing around the house feeling sorry for yourself?" Iantha stood up suddenly, leaving a warm, hollow indention in the blue coverlet and looking cross and disheveled. After a few seconds, she pulled herself together and continued to speak.

"My cell phone number is on the fridge if you need anything. I love you." She leaned down and gave Skye a kiss on her forehead and squeezed her hand before walking out the door.

Skye had lain in her bed for a few minutes after her stepmother had left to get ready for the recital, wishing she had been kinder to Iantha. Even though she had been their stepmother for three years, Iantha was still a bit unused to being a mother to four rambunctious girls in addition to her young son. It can't be easy, looking after them all, especially since she had to deal with Skye's notorious stubbornness on top of everything else. 'Besides,' she thought ruefully, 'my temper doesn't improve much when I'm sick and tired.'

Skye slowly got out of bed, looking around the room as she did so. What met her eyes was the sight of Jane's clutter drifting over to her clean and and tidy side of the bedroom from Jane's messy one. She irritably kicked soccer socks, a few beat up old paperbacks, some loose papers and a long lost stuffed animal of Batty's back to her disorderly sister's half of the room. Skye went to her dresser and opened it, procuring a small bundle wrapped in socks. Throwing aside the mismatching socks, she grasped the plain wooden box in her hands and returned to her bed.

Skye placed the contents of the box onto the blue coverlet and examined them. Her first pocket knife, the bullet shell she had found in the woods two summers ago, the notes she and Genevieve* had passed in eighth grade science, shells collected from Point Mouette this past summer, and the mug Jeffrey had given her on her first visit to his school in Boston. The navy blue mug had WELBORN-HUGHES printed in neat gold letters under an outline of the school building. Skye leaned back against her pillows and cradled the mug in her hands. It was a daily reminder of how she had fallen for her best friend.

She shook her already sore head to clear it of such thoughts. She couldn't seriously be thinking of him in that way. He was Jeffrey, the boy whom she had crashed into in his mother's hedge and who had been a friend to her family ever since. But such feelings were irrational, more in Jane's or Rosalind's line of interest than her own. It wasn't as if he could ever like her like that anyways. 'But that one time, four years ago, I could've sworn that he had shown a scrap of such affection...' Her thoughts trailed off into that fateful trip to Boston, where all of these pesky confusing feelings had started.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: So sorry about the wait! I really have no excuse for taking so long in updating, and I apologize. Especially as this chapter is not particularly long. Thank you so much for bearing with me, and for reviewing. It's a good motivator. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 1

The car turned into the Alewife station parking lot, managing to find a spot in the crowded garage. As Mr. Penderwick was backing into the parking space, Skye was looking out of her window at the large glass ceiling of the station, watching the escalators move up and down with a great multitude of people on them. It took much effort for her to restrain herself from jumping up and down in her seat like a crazed baboon. The minivan slid to a halt and the two occupants stepped out amid the noise of the cars and loud voices. They walked into the gleaming structure, light pouring in from the ceiling and flickering on the tiled walls.

Mr. Penderwick checked his watch and glanced towards the steps leading down to the rattling subway trains.

"She said she'd be here by 4:00 p.m.," he mumbled while looking at the clock on the station wall.

Skye began to pace back and forth across the rather dirty tiled floor, impatience mirrored in her every move. She puffed her cheeks in and out. Finally a short gray-haired figure stepped out of the seething mass of humanity. The woman began to wave and walked towards the waiting pair.

"Sorry I'm late," Churchie panted, out of breath partly from her hurried arrival and partly from climbing the steps leading up to the station .

"It's nice to see you again, Churchie," Mr. Penderwick said. He held out his hand to the kindly housekeeper of Arundel.

"Likewise, Martin. And it's so good to see you again Skye." Churchie gave Skye a quick hug, which left the latter slightly rumpled. "And how are the other children?"

The adults exchanged a few more pleasantries, seemingly unaware of the inner agony Skye was going through. At long last the adults parted, and Skye was on her way to see her best friend. She practically bounded down the stairs to enter the rush and roar of the subway trains coming to a stop at the platform. They boarded the metallic gray train and took their seats amid the chitchat of the people entering and exiting through the double-doored entrances. Skye settled into her seat, a slow smile creeping across her face as Churchie began to ask her about her school year. It wouldn't be much longer now.

^:^

They climbed the steps to Churchie's daughter's apartment. Her home was located on the fourth floor of the building, and the carpeted stairway squeaked and creaked with every movement made on the rickety boards. They rapped on the black door with 455 written in gold numbers in the center. A smiling woman with short brown curls and shining eyes of that same color opened the door and enveloped Skye and Churchie both in a big hug.

"Mama! Welcome back! And this must be the infamous Skye Penderwick I've been hearing so much about." She gave Skye a wink and a firm handshake. Skye, although still a bit ruffled from the woman's tight embrace, decided that she like Churchie's good-natured daughter well enough.

"My full name's Mrs. Ruth Bradford, but you can just call me Ruth." She led them into the spacious and cozy apartment, chatting merrily as she did so.

"Please, won't you sit down?" Ruth asked, gesturing towards two comfy-looking love-seats. "Can I get you anything? Iced tea? Water? Coke?"

"A Coke, please." Skye tried to keep her voice level, but her patience was quickly depleting. Where was Jeffrey?

"Just some water please, thank you dearie." Churchie paused as she looked around the room. "Where are the boys? I thought they would be here to greet us."

"Which boys are you referring to?" Ruth inquired, amusement written across her face. "Greg's at Vanderbilt, Jaden and Zachary are napping, Lucas is on a camping trip with his father, and Matti and Alex are at a school soccer retreat." She rattled off the activities like she had known them all her life while filling the glasses she had brought from the kitchen with ice. Ruth then poured the requested liquids into the glasses and set them down near their respective owners. Skye murmured her thanks and picked up the cold glass, its steady weight reassuring her. Churchie barely even glanced at hers, too busy asking after her six grandchildren.

"But I thought you said that their soccer camp was last week."

"They just changed the schedule on Tuesday. I am sorry they aren't here to meet Skye, but maybe they can do that another time."

Skye normally would have perked up at the mention of children who were probably close to her own age if she hadn't been bored out of her senses. Adults were almost always boring when they talked about their kids.

"So how many sports do they play now?"

"Matti and Alex both play baseball and soccer, but Matti's dabbled in a bit of basketball. Greg plays hockey, and Lucas is going to start T-ball in the spring."

This went on and on for quite some time, mother and daughter catching up on the latest news. Skye felt quite out of place, and was considering going to the bathroom to get out of it. But just when she thought it couldn't get any worse, it did. A small child who looked about three years old toddled into the room, sleepily rubbing his eyes. Oh no. She should have known something was up when Ruth mentioned the word 'naps'. Skye's fear of babies and toddlers was only surpassed by her fear of the apocalypse and acting, but in light of SISTERS AND SACRIFICE, her starring role in it, and the present danger, the apocalypse was starting to look pretty good just then. Where, oh, where was Jeffrey when she needed him? Would this torturous day never end?


End file.
